Interview with Ricky Gervais on Cheese, Oysters, Tofu

He may be a gym rat these days, but it’s not because Ricky Gervais wants to look like Matthew McConaughey. “The only reason I work out is so I can eat more cheese,” says the comedic powerhouse, who stars in this month’s Muppets Most Wanted.

But while he’s got an insatiable appetite for Cheddar, Gervais also cops to being a picky eater. Meat is off the table unless it’s disguised: “I have to think it’s tofu.”

Still, Gervais says he’s trying hard to nurture his inner gourmand. Recent restaurant outings have included Heston Blumenthal’s The Fat Duck in Bray, England (“a chemistry lab crossed with a circus”), and David Burke Townhouse in New York (“It’s all about the finale, with the doughnuts you inject yourself”). At the end of the day, though, he’s happy so long as there’s fromage involved. See the napkin for his five favorites—and read our extended Q&A below:

Do you still have a fanatical love affair with cheese?
I’ve probably had—let’s see—two different types of cheese today. I had a little mid-morning snack of cheddar on toast and then a little cheese snack later on. I mean, the amount of exercise I need to do to stay a healthy weight is incredible. If I just cut out the food, I’d have a six-pack. I’d look like Matthew McConaughey. The only reason I work out is to live longer so I can eat more cheese and drink more wine.

How much do you exercise to make that possible?
Every day. I’ve just been to the gym now, sweating all the cheese and wine I’m about to consume out of my body. But you know what, I like my food. I got more passionate about it around age 28, 30—when you get a proper job. That sounds weird. Most people get a proper job at 18, but I didn’t. [Laughs] I’m giving away so many social faux pas about how fat and lazy I am! No, but when you get more money, you try more restaurants. Before, I didn’t care about food. I was David Bowie-thin up to about 28, and then I discovered food. I got fatter and fatter for the next 15 years—my larva years. I was fattening up to become a pupa, and now I’m a gorgeous butterfly. And then I got even more money and I ate even more food and finer wine and richer cheeses. When I was in my late 40s I thought, No, this is crazy. I’d put on, like, 80 pounds. I thought, Don’t push your luck. Life’s good, you don’t need to just eat until you can’t move like some sort of foie gras goose—a suicide foie gras goose. I’d force-fed myself! Finally, over the last five years, I got a grip. And by “get a grip,” I mean I haven’t given up anything. I just have to work out more. I’d much rather eat exactly what I want, and then burn it off than diet.

Has your taste in cheese evolved as you earned more money?
When I was growing up, I didn’t like cheese. I had to wean myself onto cheese. Now I’m a connoisseur. I’ve had cheese that is so rich and mature, it blistered my top lip. And I thought, That can’t be the cheese, can it?! So I let the blisters go down, and to test the theory, I had the cheese again. And again it blistered! I don’t know what was in that cheese, but it was the best cheese I ever tasted.

Do you have a special proclivity for British food? Does it bug you when Americans knock it as bland?
Britain is so cosmopolitan now we don’t really know what’s traditionally British anymore. I think we’ve claimed the Sunday roast—Henry VIII reached the peak of roasts when he put a whole pig with an apple in its mouth on a table. [Laughs] I still think the Sunday roast is the king of dinners, and obviously the Christmas roast is the king of kings—though some Christians claim that would be Jesus. [Laughs]

How do you explain a Sunday roast to Americans? We have a similar meal at Thanksgiving, but the weekly tradition isn’t familiar.
Yeah, that’s it: [The British] have Thanksgiving every Sunday. You get up, your mum starts the roast at 7 in the morning, your dad goes to the pub, he comes back, and you eat about 1 or 2 o’clock. It’s roasted potatoes, three veg, a chicken or beef or pork, gravy, Yorkshire pudding. It’s a little Thanksgiving dinner every Sunday.

What other British foods are in the pantheon?
All the clichés are true. We like pies. Sausage and mash. Things like that. But I once read that chicken tikka masala is consumed here more than a roast. We’re the same as America, you know? What’s American food? It’s probably Mexican, Chinese, or Italian. It’s the same here. Of course, with fast food, it’s all out the window. There’s one where they’ve put cheese in the crust of the pizza. And in Scotland, they deep-fry pizza. Who ate a pizza with 1,200 calories and said, “This is not calorific enough. I need to deep-fry this”!? Apparently, Scotland was voted worst diet in the world. Scottish comedian Danny Boy said, “That’s pretty bad considering some countries don’t have a diet.” [Laughs]

Cheese aside, what are your other favorite foods?
I love Indian, Chinese. Italian is probably my favorite. It’s one of those countries where I know I can eat. Because I’m quite squeamish, really. I’m philistine and unsophisticated—not because of my great discerning palate but other reasons. Some are moral grounds, some texture. I try to rule out any cruelty; I don’t eat red meat. I eat some fish if it’s sustainable and ethical, and even then I don’t like slimy fish. Nothing to do with morality, I just don’t like anything too wriggly, or squid-y, or with too many eyes looking at me, or uncooked. Forget raw fish—I mean, they’re laughing at me with that. They don’t even cook it—no, I’m not having that! I’ll have fish fingers. That’s my favorite fish: The finger fish.

Anything you’ve come around to over the years?
No. My girlfriend loves oysters and…no. No! It’s a saucer of snot. Why would I do that? And then it gets emotional—I don’t want to eat a little friend or a pet. [Laughs] If I do eat meat, it’s got to be ethical. I want to know that it lived a great life before it was killed humanely. Then it needs to be disguised—I have to think it’s tofu. If I see a bit of blood or a vein—just, no. If I’m at all worried about the ethics of the meat, I’ll go vegetarian. In fact, in most posh restaurants, it’s like they’re challenging you. It’s like, “See that fish over there enjoying itself? We’re gonna cave its head in and bring it to you with its little face on. Are you man enough?”

It’s funny—there’s this renewed interest in sustainability and ethics and where things come from, but at the same time, restaurants can be very gluttonous. They promote a visceral interaction with food.
Even when I eat too much, I’ve never been into decadence. But I do like artistry in food. I’ve been to some amazing restaurants—like Heston Blumethal’s Fat Duck. That’s like going to a chemistry lab crossed with a circus. But at the end of the day, if somebody asked, “What do you fancy?,” it’s going to be fish fingers, beans, and chips. Or a fry-up. Or a roast. Or a chicken tikka masala. Something tasty and basic.

You once said on your podcast that your ideal restaurant would be one where you walk in, the food is already on the table, and you have a tab so you don’t have to wait for the check. Is that still your dream?
Oh, I’ve gotten used to dining experience that take three hours. As lovely as I get treated in restaurants, when I get four little bits and pieces on a plate, I just think, “Oh, come on! Just bring me the food that I ordered!” [Laughs] I don’t like all the fuss. For me, a restaurant has got to be quiet, have a comfy chair, the wine’s got to be cold…

It’s quite trendy to have a chilled red wine these days. You never know.
Well, I do like my Champagne in a wine glass. And that’s through pure laziness, but with a flute I don’t want to tip my whole head back. [Laughs] Everything is based around comfort for me.

What you need is a Camelback full of champagne and a little straw that goes straight to your mouth.
Ohhh, one day, mate. One day. I’m gonna be sitting on a bucket and getting a nurse to empty me. At the moment, I’m already in my pajamas, a sweater, and my slippers—at 6 o’clock. That’s every night. This isn’t reaching 50—this is since I was 30.

What have you noticed about the food culture in L.A., having spent so much time working there?
The service in L.A. is the best. You don’t get sarcastic, surly, fed-up waiters and waitresses like you do in England. They’re good at their job and they’re there for the customer. The only depressing thing is a lot of them have written more screenplays than me. [Laughs]

As someone who has spent time on both sides of the pond, what’s your take on tipping? Some people in New York are calling for it to be abolished…
I can’t do that—everyone knows I’m rich and famous. [Laughs] I’ve got to tip big in case they tweet. Sometimes I want to leave and say, “Look at that tip, now tweet it!”

Where do you like to eat out in L.A.?
I usually stay at the Four Seasons, so again, my laziness means I have to find the best restaurant within walking distance. I love Madeos. Spago. I eat an awful lot of Italian food when I’m in L.A. I put on two pounds a week in America.

How about New York?
David Burke Town House—again, literally five minutes from our apartment in New York. It’s all about the finale with the ol’ donuts that you inject yourself. I’ll pretend I’m a drug dealer, pushing chocolate sauce on a little innocent donut.

And London?
The Ivy’s still a regular. Murano is amazing—it’s the classiest Italian restaurant. I love Galvin at Window, which is at the top of the Hilton that overlooks Buckingham Palace. I take Americans there because the view is spectacular.

So would your ideal meal just be something like pasta, cold red wine, and death by cheese?
My ideal meal would probably be the cheesiest pasta or pizza, followed by something creamy and chocolaty. I mean, just the worst things, really.

Are you particular about how you take your tea?
I’m not an herbal tea fan. I do like Earl Grey and I’ll have a chamomile if I’m trying to relax. But no, I’ll have what we call a builder’s tea, which is an English Breakfast with a little bit of milk. But again, I’m not a snob about anything. [Interviewers] ask famous people what’s their favorite music, and it’s always the coolest, most obscure, newest thing they can think of—“Yeah, I liked the blues of Blind Lemon Pie before he became famous.” And I think, “You like Sting as well a bit!” You know what I mean? [Laughs] So, I try to be honest. Sometimes a cheese sandwich is what I want. Sometimes I want a pint of beer. Sometimes I want to watch a goofy movie with Bruce Willis running around shooting people. And I have listened to Sting before. Do not put that as the headline. [Laughs]